A distant thought
A memory
A shooting star
Not meant to be.

 Too intense
Too much …too fast
Too extreme 
Not meant to last.

The roar…. the thunder
The flash of light
The force… the surge
So strong each night. 

One of a kind
Never before
Bewitched … Beguiled 
I begged for more.

A Gypsy’s eyes
A Midas touch
Had no idea
You’d want so much.

Nothing left
You had moved on
When I woke up
You were gone.

A dream, a hoax
A fantasy
A taste…. a glimpse
Not meant for me.

Author: Patty Richardson

Writer: Film scripts, poetry, short stories.

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